Author Topic: Some of my writing.  (Read 934 times)

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cleanfun4all

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Some of my writing.
« on: March 25, 2007, 03:56:27 PM »
Oh well, what the hell...  
 
I dabbled in writing, off and on, for about 5 years. I haven't written much in the past few years, but I still have most of my old stuff. Unfortunately, most of it isn't on my computer, I just have hard copies, but I did stumble across a few things that I had emailed to a friend a while back, so I thought I might as well post them here. I may post some more later.  
 
Please be gentle on the technical stuff. I know there's some misspellings, typos, etc. None of these are final drafts.   :)

cleanfun4all

  • Guest
Re: Some of my writing.
« Reply #1 on: March 25, 2007, 03:59:25 PM »
[size=16]A ROOM WITH THREE VIEWS

[/size]

[size=14]The elevator opened and a couple got out. He followed her down the hall to her room. The man was in his early twenties, tall, well-tanned, and heavily built. He had short brown hair and a brown mustache. The woman was older, maybe thirty— five, she was tall also and very pretty. Her hips gently swayed as she walked. Her long blonde hair stopped just above her waist. They made a fine looking couple.

The elevator opened and we got out. I followed Amanda down the hall to her room. She was older than me, but she was still pretty and sexy as hell. She had long blonde hair, which stopped just above her ass. She had the most perfect ass 1 ever seen. My stomach churned with desire as I watched her hips gently swaying as she walked.

The elevator opened and we got out. Charlie followed me down the hall to my room. He was just my type, tall and dark, with muscles everywhere. He was a lot younger than me, but I could tell by the way he moved he would be good in bed. I could feel him watching me as I walked; it was making me hot as hell.

It was very late. The man closed the door, real quiet like and walked down the hall. He ran his hand though his messed up hair and pushed the button for the elevator. I was very jealous of him. I knew he’d gotten lucky, luckier than I’ll ever get. The elevator opened and he got on.

I gently closed the door so I wouldn’t wake her. I walked to the elevator and waited impatiently. I wanted to get the hell out of there. You lying, no good son of a bitch, I thought. You swore to Cassie you would never cheat on her and what the fuck did you do? You hopped in bed with the first woman who offered. The elevator opened and I got on.

It was very early. The woman closed the door and walked down the hall. She flicked a strand of hair back from her face and pushed the button for the elevator. She looked perfect, her clothes, her hair, her makeup, everything. I wish just once I could have a woman like that. The elevator opened and she got on.

I closed the door and walked down the hall to the elevator. I knew I looked awful; I’d only slept three hours. When are you going to learn, I thought. It’s the same way every time, you want it just as much as he does, then the next day you feel like shit. When the fuck are you ever going to learn? The elevator opened and I got on.

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« Last Edit: September 14, 2007, 02:57:38 PM by cleanfun4all »

cleanfun4all

  • Guest
Re: Some of my writing.
« Reply #2 on: March 25, 2007, 04:11:03 PM »
[size=16]ALL HALL0W EVEN

[/size]


    [size=14] Charlie tugged at the white bed sheet until he managed to line up his eyes with the holes his grandmother had cut in the sheet. He had wanted to go as Luke Skywalker, but his grandmother had convinced him to be a ghost. Charlie slowly made his way down the hall to the dining room. Hisgrandfather was hunched over the jack-o’—lantern, trimming a sliver from the corner of the eye with his pocketknife. He’d worked on the jack—o’—lantern all afternoon.

“Can we go trick or treating now, granddaddy?”

“Just a minute.”

“How long have you had that knife, granddaddy?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Charlie, a long time.”

“Why don’t you get a new one?

“Because, there’s nothing wrong with this one.”

Charlie watched his grandfather carefully wipe the knife with a rag before he closed it and dropped it in his pocket.

“Can we go now, granddaddy?”

“Yes, just let me get my jacket.”

Charlie’s grandfather went down the hall toward his bedroom, he came back wearing a light brown jacket and carrying a silver colored, aluminum flashlight. They walked out the front door into the cool, October night.

“Which way?” Charlie asked.

“Let’s go to Sanders' first, I need to talk to him.”

 They walked across the yard to the house next door. Nicole opened the door. She was dressed as a princess. Her father was standing next to her.

“Trick or treat,” Charlie said.

“Is that you, Charlie?” Nicole asked.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know you were up here.”

“Yeah, my dad brought me up yesterday.”

Nicole picked up the tray of candy and dumped it all in Charlie’s bag. Charlie waited for the grownups to say something but they weren’t paying attention. Charlie realized his grandfather was speaking in the tight voice he sometimes used on the phone.

“Do you want it or not?” Sanders asked.

 “Not for what you’re asking.”

“Well, what will you give me for it?”

“I’ll give you five.”

“It’s worth at least eight.”

“In your dreams.”

“I tell you what, since we’re neighbors and all, I’ll let you have it for seven.”

“I’ll think about it. Come on, Charlie.”

“Bye,” Nicole said.

“Bye.”

Charlie followed his grandfather down the Sanders' sidewalk toward the street.

“Granddaddy, is Sanders mad at you?”

“You need to call him Mister Sanders, Charlie, not just Sanders.”

“Why?”

“Because, it’s disrespectful.”

 “But you call him Sanders.

 “That’s different.”

“Why?”

“It just is.”

“Well, is Mister Sanders mad at you?”

“No.”

“He sure sounded mad to me.”

“That was just business, Charlie.”

“Oh.”

They went to every house on the street, but all the other
candy combined, didn’t equal the haul from the Sanders. Charlie was silently wishing his grandfather would make Sanders mad more often when he heard the click of his grandfather’s lighter.

“Granddaddy, why do you smoke?”

 “Because, I want to.”

“Can I smoke when I grow up?”

"No you may not."

“Why not?”

“Because, I said so.”

They walked up the steps onto the front porch. Charlie’s grandmother opened the door.

“Oh no,” she said, “it’s a ghost.”

“Look, grand mommy, look at all the candy I got.”

“Oh my, there’s no way you can eat all that.”

“You wanna bet?”





Charlie’s grandmother was tucking him into bed. She smelled of cold cream and mouthwash.

“Can I have the jack-o’-lantern in here tonight?" Charlie asked.

 “You mean lit?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know. Charlie.”

 “Please,” Charlie said, “please, please.”

“I’ll see what granddaddy thinks.”

She bent over and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Charlie."

“Good night.”

A few minutes later, Charlie’s grandfather came in the room; he was shirtless and carrying the Jack-o’-lantern in front of his ample stomach. He sat the Jack-o’—lantern down on the old oak desk. He lit the jack-o’-lantern and walked over to the bed to tell Charlie good night. Charlie caught the familiar smell of cigarettes and bourbon.

“Good night, Charlie.”

“Good night granddaddy.”

Charlie’s grandfather bent down to turn the lamp off. Charlie saw a scar across his stomach he’d never noticed before. Charlie reached up and traced the scar with his finger.

“How’d you get that?” he asked.

“I got hit by a piece of shrapnel in the war.”

“What’s that?”

“Shrapnel?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a piece of metal from a bomb.”

“Oh. Was that a long time ago?”

"Yes."

"Did you kill anybody?”

"I don’t know, Charlie. As I said, it was a long time ago.

 “How long ago was it?”

“Almost forty years.”

“Whoa, that’s a really, really long time.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Did you ever kill anybody,” Charlie asked again.

His grandfather looked at him for a moment. “Yes,” he
said, “I killed three men that I know of. There were probably others, a soldier doesn’t always know.”

“Were you really, really mad at them?”

 “No, Charlie, I didn’t even know them.”

 “Then why did you kill them?”

“Because they were trying to kill me.”

Charlie lay in stunned silence. He couldn’t believe
anyone would want to hurt his grandfather. Didn’t they know his grandfather was the kindest, sweetest man in the world?

“Well, good night, Charlie”

“Granddaddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to bed?”

“In a little while.”

“Are you going to listen to the news first?”

"Probably."

 “Why don’t you just watch the news on TV?”

“It’s not the same."

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, it just isn’t.”

“Are they going to talk about the Russians?”

“Probably.”

"Are the Russians evil, granddaddy?”

“No, Charlie. The Russian people aren't evil, but communism is evil."

“Are they as evil as Darth Vader”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t we stop them?”

“We’re trying to, Charlie.”

Charlie’s grandfather turned the lamp off and walked to the door. “Good night," he said.

“Good night, granddaddy. I love you.”

“I love you too, Charlie.”

Charlie lay in bed and watched the jack-O’-lantern flickering on the wall. He could just make out the clipped British voice coming from his grandfather’s old shortwave set. He drifted off to sleep thinking of what Luke Skywalker would do to the communists.
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cleanfun4all

  • Guest
Re: Some of my writing.
« Reply #3 on: March 25, 2007, 04:20:25 PM »
[size=16]ONCE YOU LOVE[/size]



[size=14]


It was a sultry afternoon on the first day of August.
Charlie Bruce was sitting alone at a corner table in a bookstore coffee shop, drinking a lemonade and reading the Economist. The door opened and Robby Winslow walked in.

 "You look like hell," Robby said.

 "Hello to you, too."

"What's that you're reading? The Economist?"

 "What about it?"

"Nothing. It's a splendid magazine, No, I mean it,
old chap, it's a truly splendid magazine, absolutely topping."

"All right, knock it off."

"I say, old chap, would you care for a spot of tea?"

 "No."

"That's good. I'd hate to think you were turning into a tea swelling Brit."

"No, not British. French, maybe, but definitely not British."

"No, no, old chap, stay just the way you are."

"How am I?"

 "Don't you know?"

"No, I haven't a clue"

"Why you're an all-American boy, your mother's pride and Joy. You're a hardworking, churchgoing, God—fearing, flag-waving patriot. You're a boy scout on Prozac, the very model of a modern American."

"What about you? What are you?"

"Why I'm a literary whore, of course."

"What if I want to be a literary whore too?"

"No, no, you have to stay just the way you are. Your country needs you, your family needs you, I need you."

"You're certainly in a good mood."

"I'm in a fabulous mood and why not?"

"I take it the book is doing well."

"It's doing splendid, old chap, just topping."

"How well?"

"Well enough that they'll let me write another one."

"Is that enough?"

"It is for me. What about you, what's wrong with you? Did I mention you look like hell?"

"Yeah, you mentioned that."

"So, what's up?"

 "I haven't been getting much sleep."

"Cassie keeping you busy, huh? You know, with a hot piece of ass like that, you're not supposed to get any sleep."

"Be nice, okay?"

"Okay, but seriously, what are you bitching about? You know, isonomia and getting laid are two different things."

"Not that it's any of your business, but Cassie's in Miami ."

"What, you got something going on the side already?"

"Will you knock it off?"

"Okay, what's wrong?"

"I had a dream about Caitlin."

"Really? Do tell."

"Well, we were in a room somewhere. The room was full of people, but it was like they weren't really there. I asked her if I could come see her sometime and she said yes and I was so happy, happier than I ever was when we were together."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, that's it."

"So what, man. It was just a dream. Haven't you ever heard of wish fu1fillment?

"But that's just it, I don't want to be with her."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes."

"Come on, Charlie. You can bullshit me, if you want, but don't bullshit yourself."

 "Look, I'm over her, I've been over her for a long time."

"Yeah, right. That's why you looked like you'd just seen a ghost that night we ran into her and her lover du jour."

"That was a long time ago too."

"It was last fall."

"Well, it seems longer than that."

"An eternity, no doubt."

Charlie pulled a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket. Robby gestured toward the no smoking sign. Charlie dropped his beat up Zippo back in the pocket of his cotton shorts. He slowly twirled the unlit cigarette.

"I don't know what the fuck's wrong with me. "I'm happy with Cassie, I wrote almost every day last month and it was going good too. Sunday night, I went to bed happy, then I had some stupid dream and I woke up Monday morning wanting to blow my brains out."

"Hey, it happens to everybody."

"I know, but that doesn't make it any easier."

"You want some advice?"

"Sure.

"You need to get back to work. Keep busy and just don't think about Caitlin."

"I worked the last three days."

"Really? What are you working on?"

"I'm writing a story about me and Caitlin."

 "Why?"

"I thought I could get over it by writing about it."

"Not likely."

"I've gotten over other things by writing about them."

"Maybe so, but Caitlin's not the kind of girl you get over."

"How do you know?"

"I know. Believe me, I know. You loved her without reservation didn't you?"


"Yes. I would have done anything in the world for her. I love Cassie, but it's not the same. I would have done anything Caitlin wanted. I mean it, anything.

"I know, and you can only love a woman like that once. When it's over, something inside you dies and you can never love a woman the same way again."

"I do love Cassie though, and I don't want to hurt her. She's had a hell of a life already."

"I know."

"So, what do I do?"

"Let me ask you something, if Caitlin called you right now and begged you to come back, would you?"

"I don't know."

"That's the wrong answer."

"I can't help how I feel."

 "No, but you can help what you do. Caitlin's dangerous, Charlie. She lives too far out on the edge. She's dangerous to herself and she's dangerous to anyone around her."

"I know. I always did, but I thought I could help her."

"You thought you could save her."

"Yes."

"Let me give you same advice, Charlie. You need to stop trying to save other people, 'cause your grip on the life boat ain't that strong to start with."

Charlie suddenly felt sick and disgusted, with himself and with the entire conversation.
"Goddamn it all to hell," he said.

"That's the spirit."

"Let's get out of here."

"Okay."

"Let's get drunk."

"Okay."

"I want to get sloppy, falling down, stupid drunk."

"Now you're talking."

Charlie stood up, lit his cigarette and walked toward the door

"Don't you want your magazine?" Robby asked.

"No. I don't want to think anymore. I'm through with thinking."

"That's the spirit. Thinking is highly overrated."

They walked out onto the sidewalk. It was late afternoon and the blacktop parking lot was sweltering under the August sun. A city bus was idling by the sidewalk. The air was heavy with diesel fumes.

"Where can we go?" Charlie asked.

"I know a place a couple of miles from here. It's called Kelly's tavern. Ever been there?"

"No. What's it like?"

"They have lots of booze."

"Sounds like the place to be."

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cleanfun4all

  • Guest
Re: Some of my writing.
« Reply #4 on: March 25, 2007, 04:32:11 PM »
[size=16]Some vignettes.
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[size=14]We were eight years old that summer, Nicole and I.  We used to ride our bicycles every night after dinner.  We would ride up and down that dead-end street with my grandfather watching from a wooden rocker on the front porch.  That was long ago, when we were young and innocent, when we were children.


Two lovers walked hand in hand down a dark, snow quietened street. The girl jumped as lightning streaked across the night sky. She had never seen lightning in a snow storm before. The boy had and he knew what it meant. It snowed the rest of that night and all the next day. Hard and fast. Seventeen inches in all. We spent three days making love by the fire. That was when we were young and still believed in love.


We were in a room somewhere, close and warm.  So close I could smell her perfume and feel the heat of her skin.  There were other people in the room, but they did not matter.  I asked her if I could some see her sometime and she said yes and I was happy, happier than I could ever remember being.  I tried to ask her something else, but she was gone.  I suddenly woke up and felt very empty.


It was a perfect spring day.  The dogwoods along the drive were in full bloom, their leaves a brilliant mix of white and pink.  Caitlin's cat was lying in the April sun, watching two robins pecking the ground by the front door.  That was the day we buried Caitlin.  Three days after she slit her wrists with a straight razor.


It had rained during the night. The ground was still wet and he could feel it soaking through his shirt. He could smell the damp earth and the oil on the gun. His stomach crawled as he watched them moving through the trees, still out of range, but coming fast. Let them come, he thought. Let them come.


The early morning sun was very bright, so bright it hurt my eyes.  A warm breeze blew against my back.  It was the kind of day that's so beautiful it makes you glad just to be alive.  We were upwind from the dry riverbed, so we didn't notice the smell until we were right on it.  There had been heavy fighting in the town two days earlier.  The retreating guerillas had stopped at the dry riverbed long enough to bury their dead in shallow graves.  Many of them had only been half-buried and you could see their legs jutting up from the ground.  Others had been dug up by wild dogs.  One of them was just a boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen.  He'd been hit in the chest; his face was frozen in shock.  Two dogs were eating the boy's leg.  One of them looked up at me.  Its muzzle was covered with blood.  I felt the bile rising in my throat.





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admin

  • Guest
Re: Some of my writing.
« Reply #5 on: March 31, 2007, 06:05:08 PM »


Clean.. you write with a rare brilliance .. I was there man... inside your stories along with the characters...

Please post up some more ?

cleanfun4all

  • Guest
Re: Some of my writing.
« Reply #6 on: April 01, 2007, 01:11:35 PM »
 :)

Thanks Richo.  :-*

I'm happy to post some more, but as I said, I don't have very much on my computer at the moment. All I have are hard copies that I would have to scan and edit, so it may be a few weeks before I can get to it.

In the meantime, I'll see if I might have a bit more lurking on my computer.

Thanks again.  :-X

cleanfun4all

  • Guest
Re: Some of my writing.
« Reply #7 on: April 01, 2007, 01:22:35 PM »
[size=14]At was one-thirty in the morning, three boys stood at the window of a room on the third floor of a Marriott hotel.  In the parking lot below them, two men had a girl face down on the hood of a beat-up Ford LTD.  One of the men held the girl down, while the other one had his way with her, then they switched places.  When it was over, the men got in the car and left.  The girl tugged at her clothes and walked slowly into the night.

"Jesus, man," on of the boys said.  "I've got a hard-on.

"Yeah," another one said, "me too."




He hadn’t changed much. He’d put on some weight and his mustache had turned gray, otherwise he was the same. He picked up the Jack Daniel’s and refilled our glasses.

“It’s good to see you, Charlie,” he said.

“It’s good to see you too, Sir.”

“Do you ever see Mike?”

“No, I haven’t seen him in years, I’d like to though, he was about the best friend I ever had.

“I remember, you two were inseparable.”

“I used to hate him sometimes, though. I could never even get one girl and he always had about five.”

“Yeah, he used to come up to me and say,”Captain, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend,” and every time, it would be a different girl.”

“Yeah, I could never figure it out. He seemed to have all the luck.

“You know his brother was killed in Mogadishu?”

 “Yeah, the poor bastard.”



We came from broken homes with clingy mothers who hated our fathers and fathers who were more like distant uncles, but at least we had toys and new bicycles, videos games and cable TV.  We grew up on reruns of Leave it to Beaver and The Brady Bunch, but we knew it was all bullshit.  When we were grown, we got little Japanese cars and an all expense paid trip to a bar with a twenty thousand dollar cover charge.  Now we all have computers and SUVs, cellphones and DVD players, we watch each tick of the market as if our lives depend on it and try not to become our parents


We met in Paris on a cold, windy, fall afternoon. I was wearing my old army overcoat; it was just after the war.  We drank coffee and smoked American cigarettes in a small cafe.  Her father was in jail, awaiting trial for treason.  He was a French officer who had joined the Vichy government; everyone knew they were going to kill him.  She didn't want to talk about it, so we talked about books and music and how beautiful her eyes were.




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« Last Edit: April 01, 2007, 01:23:07 PM by cleanfun4all »

cleanfun4all

  • Guest
Re: Some of my writing.
« Reply #8 on: April 01, 2007, 02:03:07 PM »
[size=14]SUMMER SOLSTICE


Cassie’s face flushed with anger. “I’m not a stupid bitch!” she screamed
.
“What the fuck are you then?” I asked.

She tried to slap me. I easily caught her wrist in my hand She kicked me hard in the shin. I felt a sudden,white hot rage. I twisted her arm hack and slammed her into the wall.

“Stop it!” she screamed.

I twisted her arm even farther back.

“Charlie, please. You’re hurting me.”

I suddenly realized what I was doing. My knees felt weak and my stomach churned. I turned loose and staggered backward into the counter.

Cassie turned around. Her eyes were filled with terror. I’d never seen that look on a woman’s face.
“I’m sorry,” I said.

She backed into the corner and collapsed into a ball on the floor.
“Get out,” she said.

“Cassie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to——”

“Get out!”

She was crying hard, sitting in the floor with her knees under her chin. I knew there was nothing I could say. I opened the door and walked out into the warm June evening. It was the first day of summer and was just beginning to get dark. The door opened and Cassie’s mother walked out.

“I want to talk to you,” she said.

“I don’t feel much like talking.”

“Fine, then you can just listen.”

I lit a cigarette and blew the smoke up into the June sky. I could see Sirius and a planet, probably Jupiter. I could still feel Doris hovering behind me.
“Tell me whatever you want to tell me, then leave me alone,” I said.

“I came to tell you I don’t ever want you in my house again.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“And if you ever touch Cassie again, I’ll kill you.”

“Is that it?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

She walked to the door and stopped.

“I don’t know what she sees in you.”

“You know, Doris, this might surprise you, but I don’t know either.”

“She could do a hell of a lot better than some drunken piece of shit like you.”

“Thanks for the great birthday, Doris.”

She went in the house and slammed the door. I heard her turn the key in the deadbolt.

I got up and walked away from the house. I walked past Doris’ garden and kept walking. I could just make out a feral cat watching me from behind the corner of the old barn.

“Hi, Kitty,” I said softly.

The cat scurried behind the barn. I kept walking, deep into the fields of what had once been a working farm. When I thought I’d gone far enough that no one would find me, I lay down in the tall grass and watched the lightning bugs float up around me. By then, there were too many stars to count. I thought of how I had once wanted to be an astronomer. I knew then I’d never be an astronomer, or anything else worth a damn. I watched a meteor streak across the sky. I vaguely wondered if God was up there watching me. Just in case he was, I gave him the finger, then both fingers. “Fuck you!” I yelled. “Fuck you!” I started to laugh. A laugh that had anyone else heard it, they would have thought I’d lost my mind. I laid there for a long time.


Cassie was sitting next to me when I woke up.

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

“I don’t know, a while.”

“Are you okay?”

“You really scared me, Charlie.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

I reached for her hand; she pulled away.

“Come on. I said I’m sorry.”

“It’s not that simple, Charlie. Not this time.”

“Did Doris tell you she told me to leave and never come
back?”

“I heard it all.”

“She’s right you know.”

“About what? You being a piece of shit drunk?”

“No, but she’s right that you could do better than me.” I felt her fingers gently brush my cheek. “What do you see in me?” I asked.

“When we first met, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’d never known anyone like you.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely an original.”

“Don’t do that.”

“What?

“Don’t make jokes. Not now.”

“Okay.”

“For once, just shut your mouth and listen to me.”

“Okay.”

“Remember when we first met? You got me drunk and tried to get me in bed and I ended up crying like an idiot?”

“I remember.”

“You held me and let me cry and told me you’d never hurt me——”

She stopped and looked up at the sky. I sat up and tried to touch her face. She pushed my hand away.
“I love you,” I said.

“I’m sorry, Charlie, I just can’t do this anymore.”

 “What do you mean?”

“I put your stuff in the car. Here’s your keys.” She quickly handed me the keys, our hands barely touched.

It reminded me of a cashier giving change. She stood up and started walking away.

“Cassie, wait!” I yelled as I jumped up and started after her. She stopped and turned around.

“Charlie, don’t,” she said. “Don’t follow me.”

“Cassie, please. I don’t want to loose you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her voice was a whisper. She turned and walked quickly toward the house. I could see her silhouette in the dark, tall and thin, small shoulders, hips that still filled me with desire. Hot tears filled my eyes as I watched her walk away. I’d never felt so alone.


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admin

  • Guest
Re: Some of my writing.
« Reply #9 on: April 05, 2007, 10:50:24 AM »


Summer Soltice is a cracker ! :-?


You write first person conversation pieces like a pro, Clean .... where did you learn to write like that ?


Have you any longer pieces?


Would you allow me to use Summer Soltice on the site ? (its brilliant).

cleanfun4all

  • Guest
Re: Some of my writing.
« Reply #10 on: April 09, 2007, 12:34:54 PM »
 :)

Thanks. I'm glad you liked it.

As for the rest, check your PMs.  :-*

Hardman

  • Guest
Re: Some of my writing.
« Reply #11 on: August 10, 2007, 01:10:08 AM »
 :)

He IS good, VERY good.

Cheers

cleanfun4all

  • Guest
Re: Some of my writing.
« Reply #12 on: August 11, 2007, 05:06:40 PM »
 :)

I'm glad you think so. :)

I just now noticed this post. The India Ink section is Kinda of at the bottom of the forum and thus, a bit out of sight out of mind...

Richo, if you happen to read this, I DO have a final draft of Summer Solstice and I've been intending to email it to you for months now. Life keeps getting in the way....

I'll try to get to it this weekend.  :-*